Smugglers and Jackets
by RainingStarWars
Summary: An old jacket holds so many memories. Luke wishes he could relive every single one of them as long as he is with the smuggler in the blue jacket.


Luke Skywalker ran his old, withered hands over the denim blue jacket lying in his lap. It felt rough beneath his fingers but oddly comforting. He smiled, remembering all the times he had clung to the jacket when embracing the man who wore it. The clothing item had aged with the Jedi and was almost falling apart from the years of action it had seen.

So many years of action...

Luke remembered those days as if they were yesterday. Had his first encounter with this jacket really been well over thirty years ago? Heh... That was hard to believe. Memories came to Luke fresh in his mind, almost as if they had just occurred.

A cantina on Tatooine, full of scoundrels and criminals alike, an old man who had once practiced in the ways of the Force, and Luke himself; a young and naive farmboy who had grown up on the planet. They met a tall and furry creature named Chewbacca that claimed to be the first mate of a ship called the _Millennium Falcon_. He led them over to a table concealed in the corner of the cantina.

And that was the first time Skywalker saw that jacket.

An older man around his late twenties, for sure, sat reclined in the booth. His brunet hair was a scruffy mess upon his head, and his hazel eyes traveled the room in a bored manner. However, it also appeared as if he were on watch, keeping his eyes peeled for some form of a threat. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke sat down at the table, mumbling a quiet greeting.

The man looked at them, that tired expression still on his face. "I'm Han Solo, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_."

When they first met, young Luke had a very distinct disliking of Captain Solo and his dirty old jacket. Why wouldn't he? Solo was rude, loud, selfish, and certainly annoying. To be honest, Han didn't seem to like Luke too much, either. Matter of fact, their first real conversation had been an argument.

" _Who's gonna fly it, kid? You?_ "

" _You bet I could! I'm not such a bad pilot myself._ "

At that those words, Han Solo had smiled. A real, crooked grin of amusement at Skywalker. When he did, that made Luke's blood boil. He didn't need to put up with this! However, years later, the old man would have given _anything_ to see that smile again. That crooked grin that sometimes was smug and all a show for his uncaring persona, or that crooked grin that sometimes was a real one. A real smile of amusement or happiness.

Luke missed that grin so much.

The old Jedi's lip trembled, and a tear rolled down his cheek before landing on the item he held. He sighed shakily, resting his head in the jacket upon his lap. It even _smelled_ like Han, still. It was strange how a scent could linger in an item for so long, but it was even stranger how someone could have a particular scent unique to them.

Memories were flooding back to Luke in that moment. He remembered the way he hadn't liked Han very much at first. However, he had always been somewhat in awe of the grouchy pilot, especially when Luke saw how dangerous the galaxy really was. How could someone be so carefree in such a horrible existence? Besides, Han had grown up on his own. Surely he, of all people, knew how hard it was to survive.

Then again, Luke had learned later that Han was not, in fact, as lighthearted about such things as he acted. The smuggler had had a heart as big as all the galaxy, even if he didn't act like it. Luke had first noticed this when Han returned to help destroy the first Death Star on Yavin 4. He came back, even when he had a debt that needed to be paid at the cost of his own life.

However, Luke did not realize how kind Han's heart was until that one night on Hoth. There was no hope for Luke. Dusk was falling, unbearably cold temperatures were setting in... No one could go out and survive that kind of climate. Luke Skywalker was going to die alone in the cold of Hoth.

Han would have none of that.

All odds were against him. It was a suicide mission. If he went out to find Luke, Han would never come back. That's what they all said. That's what they all thought. Still, the Corellian went out. He protected Luke and made sure that they both went back to that Rebel Base alive. Then, even though everyone said that it was impossible, they did it. They survived. All because Han went against the odds.

No one had ever risked their life like that for Luke. No one. And yet... This smuggler from Corellia who had no reason to care about Luke Skywalker _saved_ his life. At that moment, Luke knew there was more to Han Solo than just smuggling. He was eternally grateful.

Then, Han was frozen in carbonite. He remembered how distraught everyone had been when that had happened. Leia, who had just realized that she was in love with the smuggler, was truly heartbroken. Lando was horribly guilty, and Chewie felt hopeless without his partner. Luke, however, had been hit especially hard.

Learning that your father was Darth Vader was not an easy thing to handle. Then, having your best friend frozen in carbonite and losing your own hand at the same time? It was a catastrophic blow to Luke. There were many evenings on _Home One_ when the Jedi sat on the corner of his bunk and sobbed as everyone else ate dinner. He had lost his innocence, his hand, and his best friend all in just a few short hours.

Sometimes, as he cried, Luke would find himself wondering when Han was going to return so that maybe the smuggler would comfort him, but then he would remember that Han was gone and not coming back. Well, not if they didn't do something, anyway.

The Corellian had used to comfort Luke whenever something was wrong. After his Aunt and Uncle had been killed by the Empire and Obi-Wan had been killed fighting Darth Vader, Luke felt so lost. Who did he look up to? He had always had someone to guide him and take care of him, but now he was on his own. On his own in a huge, merciless galaxy.

Luke would never have thought that Han Solo, of all people, would end up like his new big brother. As said before, Han was probably actually one of the kindest people in the universe at heart. The brunet would comfort Luke when he was sad, even if he did it a little awkwardly, make him laugh when he was stressed, and just let him know that he had a friend.

So on those evenings as Luke cried in his room, sometimes he would forget _why_ he was sad and just drown in tears. It was like there was nothing but those tears. Nothing but his sadness. It didn't matter why he was sad, he just was. His heart was truly broken, and when he'd remember that Han couldn't come to comfort him, it would shatter a little bit more.

They eventually did save Han, though, but with a price. Han was haunted by carbonite. He spent restless nights staring at the dark ceiling of his quarters on the _Falcon_ , not wanting to close his eyes, for night terrors of indescribable horror might be waiting to come in effect if he even considered dozing off. Now, it seemed that Luke had to take a turn being the comforter for a change. He was just fine with that, though.

Luke would give anything to comfort Han again. He would give anything to _be_ comforted by Han. But that wouldn't happen.

Han was dead.

He wasn't coming back this time, and Luke couldn't save him. _I couldn't save him..._ Luke grips the jacket in his arms tighter as he sobs. He didn't want to train Rey. The girl was so determined and would make an excellent Jedi, but if he failed with her as he had everything else in his life... He couldn't bear the thought.

He holds the jacket, trying to lose himself in its feeling. The old Jedi tried to forget everything and just feel the jacket. He wasn't crying into it because Han was dead, he imagined instead that he was hugging Han and just crying about _something_. Anything besides why he was really crying. He pictured his friend's crooked grin, his warm hazel eyes.

Luke remembered Han doing everything to keep him warm on Hoth. He imagined that he was hugging the man in the jacket to keep from freezing, or maybe that he was hugging him in thanks for rescuing him. He imagined feeling this jacket in a hug at the victory celebration on Endor, or even when Han had first returned to destroy the first Death Star. He just wanted there to be more than a jacket left behind of Han Solo...

"Um, Master Skywalker?" Luke's head shot up, only to see Rey standing in the corner of the room. She looked uncomfortable, hands balled together at her waist, but she also looked concerned for the older man. "Are you alright?" she asked, eyebrows raised. Luke was quiet for a moment, but he then wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Y-Yes, I am alright," he said, trying to force a smile. However, it quickly dropped back into a frown, and he looked back down at the jacket in his lap. Luke's hands trembled on the edges of the clothing item as he stared at it, old and raggedy and now stained with his tears.

Rey was silent for a moment, but she eventually walked over and sat down beside the old man. "I miss him, too, you know." she pointed out, a sad look in her eyes. Luke nodded, understanding. Though he had felt the disturbance in the Force and vaguely seen snippets of his death, Rey had been present as Han Solo died. Luke placed a hand on her shoulder, looking back down at the jacket.

"I know," he said quietly. "He was a great friend." Rey nodded, and then there was silence for a moment. After a bit of nothing but quiet, Rey suddenly spoke.

"Why don't you tell me more about your adventures together? Or just more about him?" Luke looked at her questioningly, but Rey gave a small smile. "Don't worry. I'd like to hear." Luke found himself able to smile a little, as well. That would actually make him feel a bit better.

So Luke started what would be a long conversation, all about the greatest smuggler in the galaxy, Han Solo.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so sorry please don't kill me**


End file.
